


The Roommate

by st4rlabsforever (omaken)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oblivious nerds in love, Resolved Sexual Tension, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaken/pseuds/st4rlabsforever
Summary: Cisco has a spare room in his apartment. Barry's looking for a place to stay. The decision is easy, except for the fact that it ends up being, oh...one of the best slash worst decisions Cisco's ever made.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this fic for a while, and i'm pretty happy with how it turned out, even if i rushed the ending a bit! check me out on [tumblr](http://st4rlabsforever.tumblr.com)

Really, in retrospect, Cisco realizes he's only got himself to blame for the predicament he's in.

He's got a spare bedroom in his apartment that's just collecting dust. In the heyday of STAR Labs, he used to rent it out periodically on Airbnb – it was a pretty lonely time for Cisco, and he's leaving it at that – but after the particle accelerator explosion, he stopped that business. He was in the habit of bringing home personal projects with him, and having Flash paraphernalia lying around his apartment with strangers added to the mix probably wasn't good for the secret identity thing Barry had going.

But it's fine. Everything is good. It's not like Cisco’s hurting for the extra cash, in any case. The weird European couples and solo male travelers have surely found another place to crash at by now.

But the point is, Cisco’s got a room to spare, so when Barry runs to him blathering a mile a minute about how he's thinking of getting his own place again – because he's feeling a little cramped in the West residence, and he wants to give Joe and Iris and Wally their space, and won't Cisco come out to hunt for the perfect apartment with him? – Cisco automatically suggests that Barry crash at his place for a couple weeks until he can find the right place.

The two of them already spend Friday nights together geeking out over Star Trek. Monday nights are reserved for testing out new speedster tech at the lab. And the rest of Cisco’s week is generally spent in Barry’s presence anyway with or without the rest of the team, so really, this arrangement is nothing if not out of pure convenience.

At least, that's what Cisco thought until Barry came out of the shower clad in nothing but a pair of snug-fitting boxer briefs, towel draped over his shoulder. He beams when he catches sight of Cisco, and zips over to the little makeshift work desk Cisco set up ages ago in the living room.

“Whatcha working on?” Barry asks, voice full of excitement.

“Uh…” Cisco’s lips part and rejoin, once, twice. It takes him a few seconds to realize he hasn't actually said anything, though.

“Everything okay?” Barry’s eyebrows scrunch together in concern, bless him.

Cisco’s good enough friends with Barry that it's not the lack of clothing that's the problem. Hell, Cisco’s been known to traipse around his apartment in the nude on lazy Sunday mornings. But Barry smells like Cisco’s lavender body wash, and out of the corner of his eye, Cisco can see the smooth planes of Barry’s stomach and the taut lines of his biceps and _Lord have mercy._ And maybe it's just his imagination, but he's pretty sure he can _feel_ the rippling of muscles and tendons and flesh as Barry crouches down in front of him looking more worried than Cisco thinks Barry should ever be.

“I-It’s nothing,” Cisco stammers. “Just thinking about...stuff.” He waves the soldering iron in the air by way of explanation. “Fusing circuits together, science’ing the science out of stuff–” He winces when he drops the iron and the tip of it singes his forearm. Smooth.

“Oh,” Barry says, sounding relieved now that he knows Cisco isn't in any imminent danger. Well. Not in any _literal_ danger, at least. “Working on anything fun for the suit?”

Cisco’s brain comes back online now that he hasn't got a human beanstalk of lean muscle bearing over his shoulder. “Thought I'd give those jet propulsion boots a go,” he says.

“Nice, dude. _Nice._ ” Barry flashes over to the couch, gangly limbs spread out as he flips through the channels.

Apparently, he's not planning to get dressed anytime soon. Cisco tries his best to get back to his work.

After a moment, Barry says absentmindedly, “It's so nice to just relax,” as Bear Grylls trips and slides down a glacier in the background. “I mean, I love Joe and Iris, but when I'm out on my own, I can just let loose a little more, you know?”

“Yeah,” Cisco chirps. The sharp accents of Barry’s hips peak out over the waistband of his boxer briefs. Cisco wants to die.

It's a little hard to work when he's got a modern day Adonis laid up on his couch. Shirtless _and_ pantless. And okay, Barry might be exceedingly skinny, so much so that if Cisco’s abuela ever got her hands on him, she’d probably force feed him until he was blue in the face. But everything Barry’s got going on just seems to work for him. The chiseled abs. The subtle triceps that are just well-defined enough to show through whatever shirt Barry’s wearing, but not enough to jive with his slim figure.

Cisco tamps down on any feelings he's got, though, and he's got _a lot_ of feelings right now. From the moment Barry woke up from his coma, Cisco was a little bit head-over-heels, but there was Iris, then Linda and Patty, and when Barry was finally single again, Cisco figured he didn't have a chance in hell. Besides, as far as he knows, Barry is straight, and the last thing Cisco wants is to ruin one of the greatest friendships he's ever had.

But having Barry in close proximity like this is turning out to be horrible, and they haven't even gotten through day one yet. The feelings that Cisco had long since corked up came bubbling violently back to the surface, try as he might to suppress them again.

He loses his grip on the beaker he's holding, but before it can shatter on the floor, there's a whoosh of air, his hair is blown across his face, and when he parts it to the side, Barry’s standing right in front of him again, grin wide as he holds out the beaker in his outstretched hand. Of course.

“Dude, you're clumsier than I am tonight,” Barry chides, but there's no heat behind it. And he’s _still_ shirtless and grinning at Cisco.

“Yeah,” Cisco says weakly. He has no idea how he's going to survive the next couple of weeks.

*

Despite Barry’s tardiness, he’s actually got a pretty regular schedule, which Cisco thanks the gods for because it means he can avoid the apartment like the plague whenever Barry’s showering. Barry likes to lounge around the apartment shirtless for hours afterward, and Cisco absolutely doesn’t think he has the self-control to avoid saying or doing something embarrassing. He’s long since concluded that he’s just a mess around beautiful people.

The biggest tragedy in all of this by far is that Barry has no idea just how beautiful he really is. And then Cisco mentally smacks himself, because _creepy_. Barry’s sure to be running for the hills the second he gets wind of Cisco’s increasingly problematic crush.

But Cisco only has to last a few weeks until he’s no longer being assaulted by that brilliant smile and those chiseled abs. Everything is still okay.

*

“Sorry,” Cisco says in a rush, chagrined. He threads his fingers through his hair, doing his best to give it that slightly ruffled look that Hartley swore looked great. “Gotta look good for the crowd, you know?”

There’s an audible gasp followed by the sucking in of air behind him, much louder than it should be thanks to Cisco’s budding powers.

When Cisco turns around, Barry is staring at him with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” Cisco asks, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I look dumb or something?”

“N-no. I - I’m just gonna open a window.” Barry zips off without any further explanation.

Weird. Cisco’s used to Barry’s eccentricities, though, and usually they mean he’s lying about something. But Cisco’s not going to push it, not when he’s so excited about tonight already. It’s probably the most important moment of his professional career as an engineer, and yet, next to all the superhero business, it truly doesn’t seem all that significant. Still, besides accepting his award, he’s well aware (as Hartley keeps harping on about it) it’s going to be a night of networking and schmoozing. Hence, the slim-fitted tuxedo he’s currently trying to squeeze himself into.

It’s just one night, Cisco tells himself. He can put up with how uncomfortable the tux is if it means more funding for STAR Labs. Lord knows they need it.

He rolls up the sleeves and buttons them because he’s a rebel, then calls over to Barry to help with the bowtie.

“Dude, Iris says you never stop bragging about your bowtie tying skills. Not impressed.”

Barry grumbles something unintelligible under his breath as he fumbles the knot for the fifth time. There’s a pink tinge to his cheeks, and he’s far more flustered than usual, which actually, now that Cisco thinks about it, might be a legitimate cause for concern. Barry’s got a lightning metabolism and super healing. He doesn’t get sick. Anything that’s actually causing symptoms to manifest probably isn’t good news.

“Sorry,” Cisco says again after a few minutes go by without success. “Hartley said the bowtie’s mandatory since the CEOs of like, every major engineering firm in the country are gonna be there, so I gotta do this.”

Barry suddenly stops, and Cisco belatedly realizes he can only tell because Barry’s fingers have stopped their blurred movements beneath Cisco’s chin. “Hartley?” he asks, electing to completely ignore the second part. “Do you spend a lot of time with him?”

Oh, right. “Don’t worry.” Cisco puts on his best reassuring voice. “I haven’t forgotten what Hartley almost did to you in the old timeline. Gotta give him a chance, though, right? I mean, he’s proven multiple times now that he’s on our side.”

“Oh,” Barry says, which doesn’t help at all.

“You okay, dude? Seriously, Cait’s gonna kill you if you overwork yourself and pass out again, then she’s gonna kill me for not noticing.”

Barry shoots him a tiny grin as he finally gets the bowtie just right. “Yeah. Just gonna change, then I’m all good to go.” He tries for one of his trademark sunny grins, but it ends up coming out lopsided, more like partly cloudy with a chance of rain. Cisco can’t say he’s reassured.

It takes Barry forever to get ready. Despite zipping all around the apartment at super speed - gelling his hair, ironing his dress shirt, tinkering with the cuffs on his suit - he somehow manages to take longer than Cisco does. It’s baffling.

Cisco takes a seat in the dining room since apparently, this is going to be a Production. He crosses his left leg over his right knee, winces when the fabric of his pants pulls taut over his thighs, and settles in on his phone.

Barry keeps shooting not-so-inconspicuous looks his way, looks like he’s about to say something several times, but aborts at the last minute all the while manically trying to dress himself. He even trips over his own legs a couple times as they get caught in a single leg of his pants. Cisco snaps a photo and sends it out to the group for a laugh.

Finally, Barry’s ready to go and okay, wow. _Wow_. It’s really not fair how good Barry looks in a suit, but at least he’s not half-naked. Cisco’s pants are entirely too tight to be able to adequately hide any unwanted biological reactions, and that would just be a Disaster. And besides, Cisco’s seen Barry in a suit plenty of times already, so he’s at least able to moderate his internal swooning.

“You’re gonna be great tonight,” Barry says with a firm hand on his shoulder. He still looks slightly flushed, but he’s so genuinely happy that Cisco can’t help the butterflies that flutter in his stomach.

*

“Dude, hold still!”

“I’m trying!” Barry twitches again for the nth time, and Cisco wants to throw his hands up in defeat. “I don’t get why you can’t fix our suit when I’m not wearing it.”

“ _My_ suit,” Cisco corrects. “And I already told you, every time I stitch it up when you’re not wearing it, you rip it to shreds. I need you in it so the dimensions are right. Now, hold still.”

Cisco puts a steadying hand on Barry’s thigh and bites down on his lower lip in concentration. Being this close to Barry’s crotch should be a cause for concern, but Cisco’s so focused on the task at hand that the unbidden thoughts are kept on the periphery.

“I - I just…” Barry stutters. His face is flushed again, almost the color of the suit, and he’s been a jittery mess since Cisco started trying to repair the gaping gash across the legging. And then he flashes off to god knows where for the third time in as many minutes. Cisco knew Barry occasionally got the speed fidgets, but this was something else.

“Sorry,” Barry pants a couple of seconds later. He’s still flushed, but the red has faded to a light pink, and he no longer looks like he’s sweating enough to have just run a marathon, so...that’s good.

Cisco rolls his eyes. “Got it all out of your system?”

“Yeah. Go for it,” Barry says as he sits back down.

“Okay. This last stitch is kinda high up at an awkward angle, so…” Cisco puts his right hand gently on Barry’s inner thigh, looks up, and raises an eyebrow to ask for permission.

“Ah! That’s...that’s fine!” Barry chirps. “I’m - I really think I’m gonna…”

Cisco blocks out the awkward babbling. If he didn’t, he’d never get anything done around here. He squeezes a bit harder with his right hand, holding down the tripolymer so it doesn’t bunch up as he threads the needle through.

“What the hell?” Cisco frowns. The edges of the stitches start to stretch and pull. “Why is it getting tighter?”

Barry whimpers, and when Cisco looks up at him, Barry’s face is back to bright red, doused with sweat. “I’ll be right back!” he chirps.

Cisco tries his hardest not to punch something.

When Barry returns, all of the new stitches are ripped to hell from all the running he did before the tear was fully closed. Cisco absolutely cannot right now. He loves Barry like a brother (and actually a little more than like-a-brother), but Barry’s doing his best to try Cisco’s patience today.

“You know what? You wanna run around without looking like a ragamuffin? Fix it yourself.”

Barry nods back with wide eyes.

*

The thing about living full time with Barry is that the curtain is pulled back on what exactly Barry Allen does with his free time. And the answer is: not much.

Cisco had always assumed that Barry never had any free time to himself, what with the superheroing and the crime scene investigations that he couldn’t exactly speed his way through, but it turns out that Barry just spends his down time - and there’s a lot of it, surprisingly - lounging around the apartment, watching crappy sci-fi movies with Cisco, and geeking out over planned improvements to the suit.

Occasionally, he zips out for a bank robbery or fire, but given that he’s the Flash, the legwork really only takes a couple minutes. For the harder stuff - rogue metas, mass evacuations - Cisco’s shifted to running comms straight out of his apartment, which makes the off-the-clock stuff easier. Barry’s been begging him to join him out in the field for weeks now, but nope. Cisco’s far too terrified to even think about that.

The point is, though, that collectively the two of them have quite a bit of free time. Cisco is bored, and Barry is bored, and they’re both staring blank-faced at the TV as a reporter from National City interviews Superman about his most recent heroics, so Cisco can’t really blame his runaway imagination for blurting out: “do you think Superman is ticklish?”

Barry scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns. “I don’t know…” Then, a mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Let’s find out.”

Cisco blinks, then he’s sitting at his workstation. “Be my eyes and ears,” Barry shouts in a rush of wind, already suited up as he dashes out the door.

*

Cisco’s jaw steadily drops as he watches Barry methodically take down Superman. He _whoops_ and _woohoos_ and shouts words of encouragement through the comms, not that Barry really needs it. All Cisco really does is sit back and occasionally help Barry predict what Superman’s next maneuver might be.

There’s even news footage of the tussle, as the networks scramble to capture live footage of Flash vs. Superman. Mostly, it’s just Superman giggling helplessly on the ground as Flash has his way with him. All this just confirms to Cisco that super speed is the most broken power. It’s at least okay when he knows Barry’s firmly on his side, though.

Superman tries to fly away, but Barry drags him back down with twin funnels of wind from his arms.

“Drag him, Bar!” Cisco pounds his keyboard in excitement.

The news cameras zoom in, and Cisco can see Barry’s grin in response. Flash taunts Superman in his warbling voice, because _of course_ he does.

“Code red, incoming!” Barry shouts through his earpiece.

“What?” When Cisco looks back at the television, both Superman and Flash have disappeared. He’s about to ask Barry what’s going on when the man in question comes bursting (phases through, rather) through the door in a panic.

Barry zips over to the window, looking increasingly distressed.

Cisco walks over next to him. “What’s that thing in the sky?” He squints at the small speck above the horizon.

“Superman.”

“What does he want?”

Barry shudders. “Revenge.”

Cisco’s eyes widen. “Get out of here. I’ll tell him I don’t know where you ran off to.”

“He knows who are you. He knows you helped me,” Barry says, eyes wide beneath the mask.

“What?!”

Barry scratches the back of his neck. “I...I might have bragged to him about how great my support team was. He knows you were talking to me over the comms.”

“Barry!” Cisco fists his hands through his hair, tries to process that the so-called Man of Steel is after _him_ for revenge. Cisco’s seen the pictures. Guy’s biceps are practically bigger than Cisco’s entire torso.

“I’m _sorry!_ ” And Barry is shouting now, too, expression a little long-suffering. “How was I supposed to know he’d be this vindictive?”

“Okay,” Cisco says, more to himself than to Barry. He runs through all the possible scenarios in his head. “Okay. Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad. I mean, are you even ticklish?”

Barry whips his head around lightning fast. “Yes!” He stares at Cisco like Cisco’s just asked him the most idiotic question he’s ever heard. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” Cisco says stubbornly. Before he can really process what happens next, Barry sticks a hand under his arm, vibrates his fingers, and Cisco _shrieks_.

Barry raises an eyebrow.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Cisco says under his breath. “What are we gonna do?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Barry’s voice is hoarse and just a touch desperate.

The speck on the horizon is marble-sized now. Cisco can make out the billowing cape in the distance.

“Let’s get out of here, first. Figure out our plan later. Maybe he’ll get bored if he can’t catch us?” Cisco starts packing a duffle bag with clothes and emergency rations, which Barry seems to take as a clear mission statement, because a second later, he’s no more than a blur as he helps Cisco gather all the requisite escape-from-Superman items.

*

“How does he keep finding us?” Cisco squints at the skyline, and sure enough, Superman is there again.

“I can’t lose him.” Barry’s wheezing and panting, hands braced on his thighs as he tries to catch his breath. It doesn’t look like he can go on much longer, which, yeah, is bad, but it’ll be even worse since Barry is his main (read: only) form of offense and defense.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Cisco reaches into his bag for the goggles and slips them on. “I’ve got an idea.”

*

“Thank _god_ , Cisco.” Barry grasps him by the shoulders, then promptly collapses to his knees, his entire body becoming dead weight propped against Cisco.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He gives a cursory glance around them, but all he can see is trees, trees, and more trees. There’s a thin sheen of fog hugging the ground all around them. It’s kind of creepy, actually. “I have no idea where we are.”

“Rest now. Think later,” Barry murmurs from where his face is pressed against Cisco’s leg.

Cisco rolls his eyes affectionately, grabs a speedster bar from his bag, breaks a little piece off for himself, and hands the rest down to Barry. The effect is instantaneous. Barry perks up, fresh as a daisy, and illuminates the forest is a yellow glow as he zips this way and that trying to map out the place.

“There’s no exit,” Barry says. Thankfully, his voice is confident and firm - just what Cisco needs right now. Hey, one of them has to be fearless in this Blair Witch scenario.

Cisco puts the goggles on. “I could try breaching us back to Earth-1,” he offers.

After a beat, he pulls the goggles off and chirps out, “Nevermind. Let’s stay here.”

“What’s wrong?” Barry’s by his side in a heartbeat, all concerned eyes and worried frown as he wraps a gentle arm around Cisco’s shoulders. And Cisco’s positive there’s something creepy about this forest that has the two of them on edge, but it’s still better than the alternative.

“I vibed what happens if we go back now. You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh.” Barry gets that look like he does when he’s contemplating a forensics problem, or possibly running into a burning building. “I think I could take him again.”

“Dude, obviously not, because I just saw it in my Vibe. And if you go down, I’m going down with you. No offense,” he adds, apropos of nothing; he knows Barry gets his drift, close friends as they are.

“Oh, right…” Barry says forlornly.

“Come on,” Cisco nudges him with his shoulder, “you literally turned the _Man of Steel_ into a giggling pile of goo. You’re a legend, bro.”

Barry flashes his trademark sunny grin and dissolves into giggles, and it doesn’t take long for Cisco to follow suit. There really isn’t anywhere he wouldn’t follow Barry.

*

It takes a few more minutes before Cisco realizes just how _cold_ it is here, wherever ‘here’ actually is. He’s shivering violently, his teeth are chattering, and when he checks the reading on his tricked out phone, it reads forty-one degrees. And the summer shorts and tee he’s wearing definitely aren’t helping matters one bit.

Luckily, Barry seems to catch on to his discomfort. In a few seconds, he’s gathered up a handsome pile of firewood. Another second, and he’s rubbing his hands together furiously as electricity crackles and sparks. Cisco blinks, and they’ve got a roaring campfire in front of them.

“Th-thanks,” Cisco says gratefully, and scoots closer. It feels pleasant to have the flames lick at his frozen fingers and toes, but it only does so much to drive the cold away. His phone indicates it’s thirty-five degrees now.

Barry materializes in front of him, face slightly sweat-stained but otherwise in good spirits. “I made us a shelter. Might as well get some rest, right?”

Behind him, a makeshift shelter composed mainly of large tree branches precariously balanced on one another is illuminated by the light of the flames. It’s shabby, but it’ll do.

“Aww, my hero,” Cisco manages to get out between the shivers. “You’re a keeper.” He can’t help himself, and he’s only twenty-five percent joking, but he figures it isn’t that creepy since Barry’s response is a radiant smile. It’s almost enough to warm Cisco up entirely. He’s not sure how he’s going to survive once Barry moves back to an apartment of his own and he doesn’t get to see that smile everyday. Well, he gets to see Barry everyday anyway, but it’s the little moments outside of the science and the crime fighting and the trips to STAR Labs’ infirmary that count, and he’s definitely going to miss those.

Inside, Barry’s already wrapped himself in some large leaves, and Cisco notices there’s another pile laid out neatly next to him, presumably for Cisco. If it wasn’t so frigging cold, he would actually maybe be a little taken with how much of a gentleman Barry is. But even with the mystery leaves wrapped around him, Cisco isn’t sure how he’s going to survive the night without turning into a popsicle.

And then Barry presses his body flush against Cisco’s back, and Cisco _actually_ freezes.

“Bar…?” Cisco whispers, but it’s absolutely deafening in the tense silence.

“I run hot, remember?” Barry’s voice comes from what has to be mere inches from Cisco’s head. He can _feel_ the warmth of Barry’s breath on his ears. “I thought sharing body heat might make you more comfortable.”

“Oh. I...yeah, okay,” Cisco says lamely. He’s simultaneously torn between internal cries of “no, no, no!” and “hell yes!” but Barry _does_ have a point about the heat sharing being practical. Probably.

Barry drapes an arm over Cisco’s torso, pulls him close, and settles it somewhere near Cisco’s stomach. And it’s working. It feels like he’s been suddenly tossed in a furnace, or maybe an active volcano, except for one teeny tiny problem: Cisco can feel every one of Barry’s washboard abs against his back. Barry’s biceps flex involuntarily as he holds Cisco tight, and Cisco can feel their contours pressing firmly into his sides. Every minute move either one of them makes causes the leather of the Flash suit to creak, and suddenly, Cisco can feel all of his blood beginning to rush south.

He’s not sure a worse torture could possibly exist, and yes, he’s including that time Captain Cold kidnapped him and Dante.

“Everything okay?” Barry asks.

“Yeah…”

Well. There’s a flustered heat rising up to Cisco’s cheeks, and his entire body is tingling from the proximity, so at least he’s not going to freeze anymore. There’s that.

Cisco can feel his shorts beginning to tent. He’s so thankful he’s the little spoon right now. If Barry’s hand wanders down any further, though...oh god. Squirming to try and free up a little space and make this situation less awkward doesn’t seem to help any.

“Try and get some sleep,” Barry murmurs into Cisco’s neck, then tightens his grip around Cisco’s middle.

Cisco lets out a low whine. It’s like being hugged by a boa constrictor; the more he squirms and struggles, the tighter Barry’s grip seems to get.

“Bar. _Bar_.”

Barry responds with a snore. Great.

Cisco takes stock of his current dilemma.

Pros: he feels _very_ safe being practically cocooned by the Flash; he’s very warm, maybe even a little too warm; and he’s being spooned and cuddled by _Barry Allen_.

Cons: he’s being spooned and cuddled by _Barry Allen_ and he’s not allowed to react or squeal or let anyone know how much he’s enjoying slash hating this.

There’s the creaking of leather, then Barry’s hand shifts and somehow slides _up_ Cisco’s shirt, gloved palm splayed out over Cisco’s belly.

“Barry.” Cisco really can’t help how high-pitched his voice comes out.

Every time Barry snores, his hand vibrates. That, combined with the texture of the gloves, is really doing things to Cisco, and he’s quickly reaching the point where he’s painfully hard. He almost wants to laugh, because this is proof that there _is_ a god and he’s testing Cisco.

Cisco squirms futilely for a couple more minutes before giving up and settling into his infernal prison for the evening. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Then Barry nuzzles his face into Cisco’s neck. Scratch that.

*

The first thing Cisco notices when he wakes up (besides that he’s sweating profusely and being strangled by an octopus) is something sharp poking him in the small of his back.

His heart nearly stops when he realizes what it is. Seriously, he’s ready to throw in the towel. Universe - 1. Cisco - 0. As long as the universe stops trying him, he’ll be okay. But then he remembers this is _Barry_ , and besides the fact that this is a totally normal biological reaction in the morning, Barry’s got a hair trigger these days. He’s probably stimulated by the leather of the suit, or from having been pressed against Cisco all night. Totally normal.

Cisco wiggles his shoulders, then his back to try and get some airflow, but Barry’s grip got even tighter in the night, and well...the accelerator explosion gave Barry abs and toned everything. All Cisco has is his scrawny-ass, straight-up-F-in-gym-class self. He’s genuinely starting to be concerned about the Flash-shaped imprint he’s sure to have on his back.

He shifts his buttcheeks if only to try and get some blood flowing, when he feels it. ‘It’ being the hand resting on his crotch.

He’s having a coronary. He can feel his heart about to pound right out of his damn chest. He can feel his dick hardening, and it’s _definitely_ not a normal morning reaction.

Cisco wants to cry.

He tries thinking about dead puppies and nuns, but then Barry’s fingers twitch, and all he can think about is how much he wishes Barry was stroking his cock. There’s the shifting of leather behind him, and Cisco can feel Barry’s forearms and biceps and abs contracting, relaxing, shifting, and he’s sure he’s going to die on the spot. It’s like someone’s hand-picked every possible scenario Cisco finds arousing and decided to throw them at him all at once.

And for all his troubles, Barry continues to snore. It’s tragic, really.

He can pinpoint the exact moment Barry wakes up, because it’s also the exact moment Cisco’s heart _actually_ stops. Barry’s shallow breathing suddenly stops; the pitter patter of his heart becomes an explosive presto beat, which Cisco can feel because Barry is still pressed against his back; and Barry’s entire body tenses like a drawstring.

They stay like that - molded against each other - for a few seconds, and Cisco has to wonder how long it feels like for Barry. He’s no mind reader, but he can practically hear the gears turning in Barry’s head.

There’s a sudden gust of wind and Barry is standing a good ten feet away, cowl down, sleep-tousled hair standing in every direction, eyes wild.

“Jesus! I’m so sorry, Cisco. I-I didn’t mean...I didn’t know–”

By the sunlight slowly beginning to filter its way through the canopy of trees, Cisco can see that Barry’s face is nearly the same color as the suit.

“It’s alri–” Cisco begins to say, but Barry’s rambling cuts him off.

“Oh my god. You must think I’m a creep. _Oh my god._ I-I can’t…”

Barry looks like he wants to reach out, but thinks better of it. And Cisco would be lying if he said Barry doesn’t look unfairly cute as he grabs tufts of his hair in embarrassment, settling for just gawping at Cisco in silence.

“Dude,” Cisco chuckles, “it’s fine. You were asleep. It’s just a normal morning reaction.” Not really. But Barry being all jittery and nervous is making _him_ all jittery and nervous, so the first step is to calm Barry down, and once that’s finished, to get the hell off this barren universe and fix his roommate situation ASAP.

Barry could probably tempt nuns just by existing, nevermind Cisco, who’s run the whole gauntlet of dirty thoughts since Barry moved in with him. Barry, who’s sweet and amazing and (more to the point) straight. Who will definitely think Cisco’s a creep if he ever finds out the thoughts and feelings Cisco’s been harboring for him.

The point is: Cisco’s got to get out while he’s still got some vestige of his sanity.

“Are you sure…? Because I can…” Barry lamely gestures off into the dense underbrush as if to say...what? ‘Remove myself from the equation’? ‘Leave you alone in the woods on some creepy-ass deserted planet’?

Besides, Cisco would probably get lonely and then freeze and see? This is horrible. Even when he knows he needs to get away for both his and Barry’s sakes, he can’t seem to keep his distance.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Cisco says. “Let’s just focus on getting through this and not getting murdered by Superman.”

*

It’s over a week later when Superman finally decides to give up his quest for revenge, and Cisco vibes them back to Earth-1.

“I’m never, _ever_ following along with one of your ideas again,” Cisco says. He’s only half-joking.

“Oh, come on. We got out of it in one piece!”

“I had to poop in the woods! And wipe with a pile of leaves.”

“Don’t be so uptight,” Barry wheedles with a grin. He’s still got his arm draped around Cisco’s shoulder in support from running them through the breach, and Cisco finds himself beginning to giggle uncontrollably as Barry’s fingers wander downward towards the crook of his armpit.

Barry’s grin is absolutely shit-eating. “I got Superman to lighten up. Now I’m just trying to help my friend.”

“Gah!” Cisco tries to wriggle out of Barry’s grip, but a strong arm snakes around his torso and pulls him back. He tries swatting at Barry’s hands, but they’re everywhere and nowhere at once – squeezing Cisco’s sides, skittering up and down his neck, slipping in and out of his underarms. He’s positive there has to be Speed Force involvement, and it’s so, _so_ unfair.

“This is a very serious problem,” Barry says, affecting a faux-serious tone. “How’re we gonna be partners in crime if you’ve forgotten how to have a sense of humor?”

Not that Cisco is in any state to respond, not even to curse Barry out, but the last thing he’s going to do is take this lying down. Barry’s going to be absolutely insufferable if Cisco gives in, and Cisco is so not here for that. Pivoting in Barry’s grip, he tackles the speedster to the ground and latches onto the suit.

Step one: never piss off the engineer.

The suit is less reinforced behind the knee to allow for more flexibility, and the material under the armpits is thinner to allow for better sweat evaporation, which also means that they’re major weak points.

“Well, well, well.” Cisco can’t really help how smarmy he sounds. “It’s always the biggest instigators who end up being the most ticklish.” It was true with Dante when they were kids as well as Ronnie back when he was still around. And it’s _definitely_ true for Barry if his red-faced laughter is any indication.

But Barry plays dirty, which is how Cisco finds himself face down crying with laughter not even a minute later. It’s no wonder Superman never stood a chance. The super speed was one thing, but the speed mirages that look and feel completely real are another thing entirely. Still, Cisco gives as good as he gets, and the two of them collapse in a heap on the floor a few minutes later.

“You’re the worst,” Cisco says, but there’s no heat behind it, not when his head is resting on Barry’s chest and he can feel the gentle inhale-exhale of his lungs.

“Liar,” Barry says easily. He’s got a hand resting just below Cisco’s heart, and it starts to wander south towards Cisco’s stomach.

It’s only when Barry starts rubbing slow circles there that Cisco freezes. He’s speechless. Barry’s not asleep this time. They’re not force-cuddling for body warmth. They’re on the floor of Cisco’s apartment, and it’s not like all those times Barry came out of shower shirtless, completely oblivious to the effect he was having on Cisco. This? There’s no way Barry isn’t aware of what he’s doing right now. Suddenly, this is starting to feel Intimate.

“Bar?” Cisco ventures quietly, not wanting to break the moment but needing to know. He puts a hand on top of Barry’s. “You’re, uh…”

Barry tenses. There’s a rush of wind, and suddenly Cisco finds himself standing up, Barry more than an arm’s length away.

“Uh...I’mgonnagoshower,” he stammers out. His face is beet red, and Cisco doesn’t manage to respond before Barry zips into the bathroom and the sound of running water on tile fills the apartment.

It’s not until an hour later that Barry comes out. He dashes out the door rambling about Flash business and how behind he is on work at the precinct.

*

The next couple of days are...awkward. Barry’s barely in the apartment after the work day is over, always muttering about plans he has with the others, or a night in with Joe. The only problem is that Cisco shares exactly one hundred percent of Barry’s friends, and he generally knows what’s going on in their social circle at any given time. Boy can’t lie to save his life.

And Cisco hasn’t missed the furtive glances Barry shoots at him when he thinks Cisco isn’t looking. Now that he’s actively calling into memory the past month, the wheels are slowly but surely starting to turn. So, he experiments. He’s a scientist. It’s what he _does_.

The hypothesis is already in place, he just needs to do some data collecting.

He spends the extra time to tousle his hair after showering, and that elicits some prolonged stares from Barry. Cisco’s not even sure Barry knows he’s doing it; he’s got this far-off, dazed look in his eyes like he’s looking right at Cisco, but his mind is wandering somewhere else.

Cisco decides to take a page out of Barry’s book and go the entire weekend in only his boxers. Barry drops his favorite mug and somehow isn’t fast enough to catch it before it shatters. He’s a jittery, blushing, stuttering mess, just like the night of the awards ceremony. And there’s no way Barry’s in a tussle about seeing so much skin, since he’s just about the most open guy Cisco knows when it comes to his body.

“Is it something I’m doing? If I’m making you uncomfortable…” Cisco has to ask. If he’s misreading this whole situation and Barry’s just too nice to say anything, Cisco thinks he might die on the spot of embarrassment and shame.

But Barry immediately perks up. “No! It’s good, everything is good! You - you’re gorgeous and attractive and-” His eyes widen. “I mean! That’s not what I meant. You’re not unattractive! I just meant, like, if I _wanted_ to date you, I’d think you were attractive, because. Yeah. And-”

Cisco tunes out the rambling. It’s the eighth wonder of the world that Barry hasn’t implicated himself as the Flash, yet. Either way, Cisco isn’t helping Barry dig himself out of this one.

The evidence is beginning to stack up, he just needs to do a little more sleuthing.

And as luck would have it, Barry wrecks the suit again in the exact same spot. As much as he hates when Barry treats the suit like it’s tissue paper, this is a learning experience, so he lets it slide. But when he gets out the sewing needle and tells Barry he needs to wear the suit while it’s being repaired, Barry disappears in the blink of an eye. Interesting.

The data is all there, and Cisco is starting to draw his conclusions. Quite frankly, it’s terrifying.

When you eliminate the impossible, all that remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Only Cisco isn’t sure how Barry Allen being into Cisco Ramon could possibly be the truth. Cisco’s used to acing exams without studying. He’s used to winning superlatives for nerdiest and geekiest, even among nerds And he’s used to most people not even giving him a second glance. Having his insanely attractive, hot, sweet, _superhero_ best friend reciprocate his crush? That’s not something that happens to Cisco.

But there’s no other possible conclusion at this point. Cisco’s stomach is alight with butterflies as he gets ready to have The Talk with Barry. Just one more little theory to test. He dons the tux he wore to the awards ceremony. It’s just for kicks, he tells himself, but he’s not sure who he’s trying to kid. Seeing Barry become a flustered mess is endearing, okay?

It’s still a bit surreal, and Cisco’d rather bask in this moment of realization forever, but he knows if he doesn’t make a move, Barry most likely never will. The sexual tension between them can be cut with a knife, and Cisco’s pretty sure he’s going to die if this continues any longer.

He clears his throat and leans against the door frame to the room Barry’s been calling home for the past thirty-four days. “Uh, Bar? Can we talk?”

“Yeah, what’s up Cis–”

Barry lifts his head up from his phone, and Cisco can tell the moment he realizes what Cisco’s wearing. He tries to keep a straight face.

“I was just thinking,” Cisco says as he plops down at the edge of the bed. Barry actually shivers, which is amazing.

This is it. Now or never. He’s not sure where this newfound confidence is coming from, but there’s something intensely gratifying about knowing that the frigging _Flash_ thinks he’s worth it.

“Look, tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but.” He unbuttons his jacket, because having Barry’s wide eyes boring holes into him like that is suddenly causing him to sweat. “I, uh…” Come on, Cisco. “I’ve kinda been head over heels for you since we met, and I’m...pretty sure your weirdness this week means you reciprocate, or you’re about to call me a creep and tell me us being friends isn’t gonna work out.”

He gives his best too-cool-for-school grin, but is well aware it falls short given how fast his heart is beating. The beads of sweat slowly dripping down his forehead aren’t helping matters, either.

Barry gapes like a fish, his eyes widening even further. It would be comical if it wasn’t so nerve-wracking. If Cisco knew what he was actually going to say next.

More seconds pass by in silence. Barry looks like he wants to say something, but the words just aren’t coming.

A minute passes.

Two minutes.

Five.

It’s like the certainty that allowed Cisco to waltz in in a damn tux has suddenly evaporated, a sudden crash from a euphoric high that leaves Cisco stone cold sober and reeling.

“Uh, this is awkward...I’m just gonna _ooof!_ ” He’s interrupted from his attempted apology by a gust of wind and a pair of lips on his own. It’s paradoxical. Barry’s got a death grip on Cisco’s shoulders, like he’s afraid Cisco will disappear at any moment, but the kiss itself is chaste. Restrained.

When Barry pulls away, he says softly, “I had no idea. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Which: ridiculous. Cisco’s still trying to scrounge together enough brain cells to respond, though.

“I thought you were straight,” Barry says sheepishly, and _that_ gets a laugh out of Cisco.

“Not even a little. Well, okay, there was Kendra, but that was...I mean, I’m bi. It’s–”

Barry grins, and it’s like bottled sunshine being let loose. “I know,” he says. “So’m I.” He just goes on grinning at Cisco at like a dope, and Cisco can’t help but grin back.

Eventually, Barry raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Not that I mind, but why are you wearing the tux?”

Oh, right. “It’s kind of an experiment,” Cisco says.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Cisco scoots back against the headboard and loosens his bowtie. Bends his knees upwards so that the fabric of his pants stretches over his thighs again, then crosses his left leg over his right. Cisco knows he can come across as spacey sometimes, but his memory is fan-fucking-tastic. Nearly photographic, and the reason why he’s so good with details. He remembers the night of the award ceremony _vividly_. Remembers stretching his legs, and Barry’s subsequent reaction, just didn’t have all the puzzle pieces in place to realize the two were related.

Now, though, the causation is clear. Barry’s pupils are blown wide, dilated so much that the greens of his irises are barely visible.

He slaps a hand on his thigh and teases, “like what you see?”

And Barry growls –honest to god _growls_ – a throaty, rattling noise a good two octaves down from his usual voice, and pounces.

Cisco blinks, and Barry’s straddling him, hips clamped down against Cisco’s sides, one hand holding down Cisco’s above his head, the other resting in Cisco’s inner thigh. It’s aggressive. Needy.

“This okay?” Barry asks, but it’s so gentle that Cisco has mental whiplash from the one-eighty.

Barry’s eyes tell a different story, though. There’s a desperation in them from all the pent up tension that Cisco can definitely relate to. Hell, Cisco too is barely hanging on by a thread. All he can do is nod mutely.

Barry crashes their lips together again, alternating between kissing Cisco like his life depends on it and trailing kisses down his neck. His other hand palms between Cisco’s legs, and _god_ , this feels so good. They’ve waited so long for this and it’s finally here. It’s finally now.

**Author's Note:**

> comments give me life! feel free to leave 'em!


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